


Honey, I'm Good

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [30]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 06old, 40 Snapshots, Awesome Teyla Emmagan, F/M, Gen, M/M, Ronon POV, Ronon!feels, background mcshep, bad sex but it's funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: Sometimes, his team is all Ronon has.  Sheppard is the brother he absolutely wanted (well, younger; he's tough and scrappy, but needs to get his ass kicked every now and again), and McKay was definitely the brother he never wanted (tense, irritating, and even at the best of times, not focused on what mattered so far as threats went).Teyla reminds him of the sister he did have that he never got to know as well as he would have liked.A story about Ronon and Teyla, and how family binds them all.A/N: Not so good at summaries sometimes -_-





	Honey, I'm Good

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I can be pretty much crap at summaries, but I hope you enjoy. T rating is for medical injuries mentioned and some mild swearing. I've been working on this for a bit, and I got stuck trying to figure out how to end it.
> 
> Partially beta'd, any remaining mistakes are my own.

It was always the most backwoods planets off the beaten path that had the best food and festivals.

Ronon heartily took snapped a bite off the meaty leg of whatever animal was native here.  It was salty-savory in a way that he had always missed as a runner.  His eyes tracked the party-attendees, more alert than his casual sitting position indicated.  He swallowed the not-inconsiderable bite had taken, trying to get a bead on each of his teammates.

Sheppard was definitely drunk—he was leaning lazily on a pile of logs that looked terribly uncomfortable.  Rodney was beside of him, yammering on in a slurred tone of voice about lemon and drunkenness and terrible ideas.  Sheppard looked mostly content—if a little intoxicated.

Ronon smirked at the thought and then found Teyla next.  His gaze sharpened at the dark-eyed native she danced around.  He definitely didn’t look _friendly_ ; at least, not in the sense that Ronon appreciated.  It wasn’t jealously, necessarily, that made him get to his feet, or possession that made him throw the remains of his animal leg into a nearby fire.

Maybe concern?  Ronon wasn’t sure somedays _what_ he felt for his teammates; they were just that— _team_.

“Hey, Teyla,” he grumbled while noting the blown pupils of her eyes.

She tilted her head at him.  “Ronon,” she greeted cheerfully as she pulled him down enthusiastically to touch her forehead to his (it was probably best ignored at the moment that he hated that and she knew it).  “Have you met Branah?  He and his family run the best crops in this village.  We will be trading with them frequently.”

Ronon snorted, though by the look on Teyla’s face, he shouldn’t have.  “Yeah.  _Trading_.”  He grabbed Teyla’s upper arm and squeezed.  “Are you okay over here?”

Her eyes glittered at him and she waved her hair out of her face.  Though definitely as intoxicated as Sheppard or McKay (the latter of which was growing more manic and dragging Sheppard to the hut they were sharing that night), she was infinitely more alert.

“I am good, Ronon,” she answered pleasantly.  “I and Branah are simply getting…better acquainted.”

Ronon snorted and rolled his eyes as he walked away.  He jerked when he felt a playful tug on his dreads.  He quirked an eyebrow up in question at Teyla.

“I am fine,” she said again more emphatically, and pulled his head down again.  He gave a suffering sigh but allowed the action.  “Perhaps more ale for you?”

“Yeah, more ale,” Ronon echoed, but still remained eagle-eyed until Teyla and Branah went into a hut of their own.

Even then, he remained awake most of the night, listening out of pure concern.

XXXXX

The small-town festival in NC had been a good idea, Ronon thought, in retrospect.  Atlantis could be kind of cramped, and the times he had ventured into San Francisco and around the mountain in Colorado, it hadn’t exactly been interesting.  Sure, the sights were nice enough, and he enjoyed the fresh air, but it wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

Besides, Rodney had airily insisted that a colleague of his in NC insisted this was an excellent cultural experience and a good time to be had by all; anyway, it was his turn to pick where they were going for their weekend leave.

Ronon wasn’t so sure—people were looking at him funny and their accents matched their looks.  And that was to say nothing of the twangy guitar music blasting in the background.

“Seriously, wherever we go, it’s _overwhelming_!” Rodney complained to Sheppard about the music as Ronon and Teyla ambled behind them.  “I tell you, once I get back to my laptop, I am _ruining_ her career; this is _not_ what I was promised!”

Sheppard replied something that sounded lazy and dry; whatever it was, it seemed to ease Rodney’s temper.

Teyla stopped at one of the many booths set up in what appeared to be downtown.  The vendor sold metal jewelry and small knives.  Ronon liked how concealable they were.

“You seem to be uneasy here,” Teyla observed quietly as she handled a rather sinister looking dagger.  She shifted it from hand to hand before offering it to Ronon.

He smiled toothily and snagged his wallet.  “Not uneasy; just…not casual either, you know?”  He handed money to Teyla, uncaring if it was too much or not enough.

Five minutes later, Ronon had another knife hidden in his hair and Teyla had moved on to a booth that had blankets and quilts—fair enough, he thought.

Teyla purchased a bolt of fabric, several blankets, and also managed to teach the vendor a new sewing technique.  “It’s not unlike some of the other marketplaces we have both visited?  There are many people here, shopping and talking.  This is a community.”

Ronon scowled at an older man that openly stared.  “Yeah, but they look too much.”

Teyla sighed patiently.  “They are unfamiliar, perhaps, with your hair or clothing?  I would not think on it; ignorance is everywhere.”

A few hours later (and whatever ale/beer McKay passed him with the obnoxious tone that it was _passable_ ), and the country music wasn’t bothering Ronon so badly.  In fact, the live music now playing (instead of the speaker-stuff) had a pretty good down-beat, and there was a particularly attractive girl moshing around with the crowd that had been staring in a good way.

It was an hour after that (and said-girl was _definitely_ interested; her boyfriend was too) that Ronon felt a playful tug on his dreads again.  He whirled, ready to elbow-check a face when Teyla’s serene smile met him instead of what he had expected.

“Are you alright, Ronon?” she asked.  “Rodney asked if I would check on you and…” She eyed the dark-haired girl bumping along with her boyfriend.  “Your newfound female friend.”

Ronon smirked at her, feeling too good to worry about etiquette (not that he worried about it much too begin with).  “Just looking to feel good.”

Teyla bowed her head to accept his answer.  “Perhaps you might feel better with your team?”  She nodded toward Sheppard and Rodney, who were arguing about food; something about safety or sanitation.  Ronon didn’t really care.

“Nah; I feel pretty good,” Ronon responded with another toothy smile.  He might not feel great about it in the morning, but at the end of the day, he had _needs_.

Teyla had a look on her face that he didn’t like—it was full of concern and love.  “If that is what you wish.”

Ronon looked at the dark-haired girl again; her boyfriend was moving against her sensually and eyeing him more and more the longer he held the stare.  People weren’t staring as much now, but Ronon had the feeling it had something to do with the alcohol flowing pretty freely.

“It’s what I want for right now,” Ronon finally responded, but he pulled Teyla to him by the shoulders, enclosing her tightly and briefly before releasing her.  He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his heart; it was a Satedan greeting.

Teyla smiled again, but it was more accepting.  “Make sure you are where you need to be in the morning then.  Good evening,” she said as she kissed his cheek.

Ronon rejoined the mosh pit and whooped with the rest of the strange people they had run into.

In the morning, Teyla made no comment about the star-wired crown he wore with ribbons draped down his dreads.  Sheppard shot him an amused stare and McKay wouldn’t shut the hell up.

He took very great amusement when McKay’s order of a Southwest omelet had to be sent back because it had lime juice over it.  He simply snagged it and began eating while McKay blustered and then ordered something else.

Sheppard hit McKay in the shoulder over his tone to the server, who smiled to Sheppard and glared at McKay.

Ronon simply tucked in and jostled his shoulder against Teyla, who shoved him back brightly.

XXXXX

At this point in the game, Ronon was (more or less) used to one of any handful of scenarios on new planets.  Sometimes, there was nothing but plant life, new vegetables to take back to the Athosians for potential crops, and—sadly—hauntingly beautiful ruins that once housed a thriving civilization.  If they were lucky, there were no physical remains of aforementioned-people.

The bad times, when they weren’t so lucky, the once-healthy society were still struggling to escape (those that were still alive) in between random wraith attacks.  While the attacks primarily occurred at night, Ronon noticed they had started culling at any odd time.

Ronon liked that—it meant they were desperate.

Sometimes, there were just Wraith, but they were only drones and the hive ship had long moved on and left them behind to dismantle any possible remaining technology.  Well, Ancient aside, since the Wraith usually wanted to salvage it instead.

Other times, they ran into barely-surviving groups of people that dotted the lands.  They rarely had anything to trade and were usually more suspicious than anything.  More often than not, Teyla would work something out and they would trade what they did have, or they would part ways.

Lastly, there was always the running.  Ronon hated running under terms that weren’t his own.

Sheppard reloaded his P90 with a slap.  “Rodney, get to the gate,” he ordered sharply.  “Get it running and make sure it’s ready.”  He turned to Ronon and Teyla.  “Teyla, you go with Ronon while I cover Rodney and see if you can distract—“ He waved his hand warily.  “The natives and their sharp pointy sticks.  We’ll talk about who fucked what up when we get back.”

Ronon snorted as he changed the battery pack on his gun.  “Yeah, that’d be you.”

Sheppard fairly vibrated in denial.  “Like I said, when we get back.  Alright, move out.”  He grabbed Rodney’s tac-vest and began steering them toward the gate, his eyes shifting over the scenery as Rodney babbled endlessly about the statistics of running into hostiles in the Pegasus galaxy.

Ronon and Teyla exchanged a glance, but Teyla only shook her head and cocked her shoulder in the direction she was going.  Ronon took it for what it was ( _later, and yes, I see it—your eyesight would be faulty if you did not_ ) and took off in a somewhat perpendicular direction.

At the end of the day, Sheppard ended up in the infirmary with an arrow to the shoulder.

“Jeez, Keller; it’s not that bad,” Sheppard complained.  “I can be out of here tonight, right?”

Keller snorted, looking at the jutting arrow.  “You’re kidding, right?  I know you’re kidding, because _I’m_ the doctor and you’re the colonel.  Sit your butt down; we’ll get you squared away.”

Rodney huffed from the bed beside of them.  “Yes, yes, yes; I am insisting.  All of that running and stress can _not_ be good for my hypoglycemia or my metabolic issues.  An IV drip full of tasty electrolytes, please; now hop to it.”

The nurse looked at Keller, who gave a withering nod.  “Where’s Ronon and Teyla?”

Sheppard shrugged.  “I think Teyla’s treating Ronon with some kind of balm she makes herself.”

Keller’s eyes sharpened.  “And what, exactly, does he need a balm for?”

“I don’t know,” Sheppard muttered.  “You’d have to ask him.”  He winced when Keller fingered the arrow.  “Hey, easy; there’s an _arrow_ in my _shoulder_.”

Keller rolled her eyes.  “You don’t say.”  She stood and motioned to one of the nurses Rodney wasn’t haranguing.  “Prep him for surgery; we’ve got to get that thing out of him.  Go ahead and have the Daedalus beam Dr. Cho over; she’s much better at this sort of surgery.”  She removed her gloves.  “Alright, John; you’re going to go under for a bit.  We’ll keep you at least tonight and probably tomorrow, and _then_ , if you _promise_ to take it easy for a couple of weeks, we’ll talk about releasing you.”

“How generous,” Sheppard muttered, but the nurse had already started injecting his IV with a sedative.

Keller quickly washed her hands before hitting her radio.  “Teyla or Ronon; care to report an injury?”

“All is well, Dr. Keller,” Teyla responded calmly.  “It is simply a rash from a plant that he is not familiar with.  It is well-known among my people.  I believe your people call it poison ivy?”

Keller nodded.  “Are you _sure_?”  Teyla and Ronon had a bad habit of simply caring for each other medically when injured, and Keller had been trying like hell to get them to stop it.

Teyla gave an exasperated sigh over the radio.  “Yes, I am sure.  I saw the plant myself; it was in a bush that we had to take shelter in to avoid being hit by their spears.  I am sure if it gets any worse, Ronon will come see you.”

Keller sighed herself.  “Fat chance of that,” she mumbled irritably.

“I am sorry; what did you say?” Teyla asked pointedly.

“I said to just let me know.  I’ve got all sorts of stuff that clears things like that up.”

“Yes, I will be certain to tell him.  Thank you for your concern, Dr. Keller.”  Teyla touched her radio before removing it all together.  “You do realize it would be far easier if you just give in to their medical care.”

Ronon shifted on the bed uneasily.  “Your shit’s better than theirs.”  He stretched out his newly-in-place kneecap and held up his arm expectantly.

Teyla rubbed a stringent-smelling salve into his arm where a spear had grazed him deeply.  “Perhaps.  Theirs is more advanced.”

“Advanced doesn’t always mean better,” Ronon replied through gritted teeth as the balm stung.  “They just think it does.  Advanced didn’t help the Ancestors.”

“That is a completely different circumstance, Ronon.”  Teyla looked at him warmly and plaintively at the same time.  It was a look Ronon often received, one that made his heart ache for Sateda and for all of Pegasus.  “You know they only have our best interests at heart.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you running to them when you’ve got a rash.”

“It was not just a rash,” Teyla rebutted, tying a bandage (ironically, from the infirmary) around Ronon’s arm.  “Dr. Keller will be most displeased when she sees this.”

“She can deal,” Ronon grumbled and began to shift off Teyla’s bed before she shoved him down more firmly.

“Listen to me,” Teyla said in a tone that brooked no argument, “It is not about whether you trust their methods or treatments.  Did you not trust your Satedan comrades to treat you in the field?”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Ah, ah,” Teyla interrupted.  “That is what it is about.  It is not trust that you seek, but family.  Have Sheppard and even McKay not become your family?”

Ronon gave a disgruntled shrug.  “Sheppard, definitely.  McKay…well, you’re pushing it.”

“Then you must think of Dr. Keller and Colonel Carter as…well, extended family.  Your interests are their interests, and vice-versa.  Dr. Keller only wishes to be sure that you are properly cared for.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So you’ll go see Dr. Keller later?” Teyla responded in a no-nonsense tone that still managed to be cheerful.

“Yeah, I will,” Ronon huffed and got to his feet.  “We good?”

Teyla gave him a smile that he couldn’t read, nor was he certain he wanted to decipher it.  “We are good, Ronon.”

Ronon left for his quarters to get a nap.  It had only been half an hour before he growled, got up, and went to the infirmary.

He supposed that it shouldn’t have come as any great surprise that Sheppard was in surgery, McKay was only interested in berating him for not taking advantage of the advanced care of Atlantis, and Keller simply tutted at him before setting him down on a bed.

To his satisfaction though, Keller pronounced his wounds well-treated and only sutured up the gash on his arm because she proclaimed it was too deep.

In other words, Teyla’s treatment had been just fine.  However, if he hadn’t gone, he would have missed Sheppard coming out of surgery and making moon-eyes at Rodney while still hopped up on drugs that even Ronon had to admit were pretty out of this world.  Rodney was predictably flustered and going bright red in the ears as he awkwardly patted Sheppard’s hand and settled in beside of the bed.

Ronon kept the information to himself until he ran into Teyla later.  She only gave a secretive smile of approval and inspected the sutures on his arm.

XXXXX

Ronon missed the Athosian festivals on the mainland on Atlantis.  It was something he hadn’t had the opportunity to attend in quite some time (though Teyla always seemed to make it, and sometimes Sheppard and rarely McKay), so now that he was there, he intended on taking full advantage.

Teyla was wicked and dancing around the fires, juggling bantos sticks with Kanan and little Tagan straggling after but already holding two branches like they were weapons.  It was good to be back in Pegasus.

Ronon lay back on his log, slugging deeply from the ale he was used to instead of the watered-down piss he’d had on Earth.  Even the Canadian beer Rodney had brought didn’t seem to taste right.

Sheppard sat beside of him, obviously a little past three sheets but still sober enough to be somewhat alert.  “You look happier.”

Ronon shifted.  “Yeah?”

“Well, happier then you were on Earth.”

“Wasn’t home.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Sheppard straightened a bit, but he still looked like he was slouching.  “Teyla looks happy too.”

“She is,” Ronon responded with a shrug, jostling Sheppard from his eased recline.

Sheppard nodded, his head bobbing a bit in inebriation.  “McKay looks better too.”

“As good as he ever looks,” Ronon jeered and received a hard knock to his ribs from a pointy elbow.

“He looks better.”

“Sure, Sheppard.  Whatever you say,” Ronon replied with the hope that Sheppard would drop the obvious sore spot.

Sheppard scowled irritably, but the alcohol was still flowing freely and seemed to be catching up with him.

“There you are!” McKay squawked from nearby and tugged Sheppard to his feet and in the direction of something interesting he had found on the mainland.

Ronon couldn’t say he gave a crap about it, and shifted his eyes back to Teyla, who was now depositing a sleepy Tagan into Kanan’s arms.  They touched foreheads briefly before Kanan carried Tagan off to the huts that surrounded the up and coming village.

Taking another deep swig of the Athosian ale, Ronon approached Teyla with a grin.  “Time for bed?” he asked her with clear meaning, and gestured toward where Kanan was disappearing into the darkness.

Teyla smirked at him.  It was clear she’d had a bit to drink, possibly more than him, and he was feeling pretty damn good.  “For some,” she said.  “For others, the celebration is only beginning.”

Ronon gave a feral smile and joined her on the dirt dance floor around the large bonfire.  This should be interesting.

What it ended up being was awkward, bad, and all around not worth the effort it took to even get most of their clothes off.

Winded, drunk, and more than a little ready for sleep, Ronon stretched out on the animal furs as Teyla settled on his bare chest, laughter still making them shake a bit.  “Bad idea,” he slurred.

Teyla made a non-committal noise that sounded full of sleep.

“So, we’re not telling Sheppard or McKay, right?” Ronon asked curiously.

“I see no reason why they should know,” Teyla responded diplomatically enough and raised her head to look at him.  She touched her forehead to his.  “We are good.”

Ronon smirked.  “Yeah, we are.”  He tackled her to the furs again, but only to wrap her in a bear-hug before they both peaceably passed out.

When they awoke in the morning, Ronon exited the tent first to let Teyla sleep more.  He was slightly surprised to see Sheppard up and nursing a cup of coffee in the cool morning air.  He clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, only for Sheppard to nearly jump out of his skin and whirl around with a raised fist.

“Hey,” Ronon said gruffly with no real anger as he caught Sheppard’s fist.  “Rough morning?”

Sheppard grumbled non-verbally for a moment before answering.  “Rough night.  What the hell’s _in_ that ale?”

Ronon laughed heartily, taking in how Sheppard’s hair was more disheveled than normal and the hint of a purple mark by his collar.  “Liquor, mostly.  That shit could melt wraith armor.  Probably the point.”

“And what about you?” Sheppard asked sourly.  “Why are you so chipper this morning?”

“No reason,” Ronon shrugged.  “Just a good time to be alive.”  He looked over to the hut.  Teyla was emerging—she looked a little tired but otherwise miles better than Sheppard.  He waved at her.

She nodded at him with a smile before going to search for Kanan and Tagan.

XXXXX

This had been a bad mission from the start.  Generally speaking, if Ronon had a bad enough feeling before going off-world, he would talk to Teyla and together, they would try to convince Sheppard and/or McKay that perhaps the mission would be best postponed.

That hadn’t been an option in this case; Woolsey had gotten involved and Carter hadn’t been able to say no without blatantly flipping off the IOA.

Ronon felt no such compunction and absolutely did flip the bird at Woolsey when he stalked out of the conference room, ignoring Woolsey’s indignant inquiry as to if Ronon even knew what it meant and an angry but polite reply from Teyla.  He didn’t hear what she said, only the tone of voice.

And now, here they were, trying to get away from what appeared to be Wraith-worshiping Genii-imposters.  And honestly, it was getting stupid.

Standing from his vantage point at the cave, Ronon let out deep breaths from the running, scanning the forest for any potential threats.  Teyla guarded it with him, though much worse for the wear, and Ronon wasn’t exactly doing too hot himself.  He’d been grazed at least three or four times by bullets and he could feel the entire right side of his face swelling into one big bruise.  He’d already had to re-locate his kneecap to the proper place again.

Teyla looked worse, as she was favoring her right ankle pretty badly and her lip had just now started to scab over though it remained as puffy as the black left eye she had received for the trouble she had taken to punch one of the jerks.

Sheppard was inside the cave and holding his left ribs pretty tightly, and his hips were cocked oddly, as if someone had taken a staff to them.  His right wrist was definitely broken, and his face was bloodied up, though Ronon suspected it looked worse than it was.

Unfortunately, McKay had taken a gunshot to his collarbone and was alarmingly quiet.

Ronon nodded his head toward the cave, indicating for Teyla to check on the situation.  She quietly shook her head, gesturing with her P90 to the forest, where every twig snap had Ronon on edge.

“C’mon, Rodney; you won’t shut up when there’s only lemon-poppy muffins left in the damn mess, but you take one measly little gunshot to the collar and you’re speechless?” Sheppard asked, but the mocking tone was absent from his voice; it had been replaced by…well, something else that, frankly, Ronon would take to the grave.

Rodney groused something, but it wasn’t audible, let alone coherent.

Ronon sent Teyla another look, glaring into the cave at her.  She waved at him to go in at his own discretion.  He sighed and lowered his gun but didn’t holster in it.  Once he was inside the cave, he saw maybe why Teyla hadn’t wanted to enter.

Sheppard had McKay curled to him, chest to back, pressing a military-issue gauze bandage over the hole in McKay’s collarbone, murmuring quietly into his ear with his face pressed into McKay’s neck.

Ronon backed away and joined Teyla at the entrance to the cave.  “He sounded panicked; I was worried,” he muttered.

“As you should be; we are team,” Teyla responded quietly.  “Help will arrive soon and all will be well.”

Ronon snorted at that, but no less than five minutes later, the familiar sounds of jumpers and drones filled the air and proved Teyla to be correct.  “You got lucky,” he muttered.

Teyla smiled in response.  “I will go check on John and Rodney and inform them that help is on the way.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ronon replied, because Teyla had an uncanny ability for calming them both down, and he wasn’t the one who needed to be in there now.  He could hear her dulcet tones of reassurance from the cave entrance, saying in nine different ways that they would be fine, and all would be good.

When help did arrive in the form of Lorne and a strike team, they trudged out of the cave with John back in soldier mode and Teyla taking most of McKay’s weight.  Ronon took the other side of McKay’s body, glaring in John’s general direction.

“It is not our business, Ronon,” Teyla murmured indistinctly.

“Yeah?  Why isn’t he helping his shot boyfriend out of the stupid woods?” Ronon grumbled, jostling McKay hard enough that McKay whimpered.

Teyla’s gaze could melt steel.  “You should bite your tongue, Ronon.”  With that, she left Ronon carrying McKay’s weight all together.

“Okay, so…not so good,” Ronon sighed, and hitched his hold on McKay to stabilize it.

XXXXX

McKay was in the infirmary for nearly a week before Keller would release him.  In that time, Ronon managed to skillfully avoid anyone on his team, opting instead to train with some of the new marines fresh off the Daedalus.  It was, unofficially, one of his jobs on Atlantis—to break the newbies in.

Amelia was in the training room that day too, looking to keep her kick-boxing skills fresh.  She had moves, Ronon had to admit, if predictable.  But she had been getting better since coming to sparring sessions.

He hadn’t thought it odd that she was there, and he launched into a match with a marine, Lt. Ashbury.

It was over in two minutes, and he took a little pleasure in the impressed look on Amelia’s face.  Something tugged on his dreads as he got up, and he turned around with a raised eyebrow, because last he had seen, the room had been full of marines and air force personnel—not exactly the type to tug on his hair.

It was Teyla though, and her lips were thin and tightly pressed.  “You need to come with me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ronon responded though he made it clear in his voice that he was going nowhere; he followed it up by turning to Amelia.  “Want to spar?”

Amelia smiled uncertainly.  “I think Teyla wanted you to go with her?”

“Yeah, she’s not my boss.”

Teyla stepped in between them.  “I will spar with you.  If I win, you will come with me?”

“If you win,” Ronon replied wryly.

It was over in a minute and a half, and he didn’t know Teyla could kick that high.

XXXXXX

Ronon restlessly sat on the edge of the northern pier and feeling a little like he had in school when his primary teachers had marked him automatically for military.  He was about to get a _talking to_ , and he hated getting those.

Teyla sat beside of him easily enough, though her body was tense.  “I am not asking you to follow their rules; do you understand?”

Ronon nodded as he wished he had something he could throw into the ocean.  “I crossed a line; I get it.”

Teyla sighed irritably.  “That is not my intention; it was not simply that you _crossed a line_ , as you say.  You are also not wrong for making the observation that you brought into light on that planet.”

Ronon leaned back uneasily.  “So what’s the problem?”

“Ronon, while you may not adhere to their authority in the strictest of means, you must still appreciate their rules.  The rules of Colonel Sheppard’s military explicitly state that military personnel must not engage in romantic relationships with members of the same gender.”

Ronon started flipping a small knife in his hand.  “Yeah, well, their rules are stupid then.”

Teyla caught the knife before he could flip it again.  “That is not our judgment to make.  If you respect John and Rodney at all—“

Ronon’s chuckle interrupted her.  “Yeah, Sheppard I respect, but—“

Teyla’s glare stopped his voice in his throat.  “You respect them both, despite how you choose to show that respect.  They have rules, Ronon.  We must attempt to appreciate them.”  She looked at him in a considering way.  “And really, then you should offer more respect to Dr. McKay, since his military does not seem to have the same ideas as Colonel Sheppard’s.”

Ronon slouched.  “Still stupid.”

“Yes…they are quite…dense, in that regard.”  Teyla put an arm around his waist and curled into his side.  “Life is different for them.”

He didn’t have any words for that, so he put an answering arm around Teyla’s shoulders and breathed in the surf of the water.  “We’re good though?”

Teyla’s shoulders lifted against him in a way that just made him hold her tighter.  “We are good, Ronon.”

XXXXX

Ronon hated getting hurt more than anything, and was usually quick to bounce back from whatever had hit him in the first place.

This was not the case this time.

He laid, _uselessly_ , on the forest floor in a thicket of shrubbery with McKay his closest line of defense while Teyla and Sheppard tried to clear a path back to the gate.  McKay’s gun hadn’t gone off yet, and he could hear distant P-90 fire, so he could safely assume that Teyla and Sheppard were handling it.

“I should be out there,” Ronon muttered.

McKay waved at him dismissively.  “They’ve got it under control.  Be a good patient and stop talking so I don’t have to use this,” he held up the P-90.  “I know how to use it, but really, it’s best for both of us if we just stay here until we get an all-clear to the gate.”

Ronon grit his teeth.  “For someone who’s telling me to stop talking, you’re sure talking a lot.”

“Yes, well…” McKay didn’t seem to have an immediate rebuttal.  “Just…well, just shut up.”  He looked back out, and Ronon finally noticed that McKay’s hands were shaky.

Ronon sighed inwardly— _great_ , McKay was worried about Sheppard to the point of panic, and that was the last person Ronon wanted on his first line of defense.

Ronon would have moved closer, but the broken right side of his pelvis prevented him from moving much until Sheppard got it cleared to the gate so reinforcements could move in to strike.  “Look, could you come over here for a minute?” he asked more grumpily than he would have liked, but _fuck_ , everything hurt right now.

McKay blinked at him owlishly.  “Why do you want me to do that?”

Ronon grunted in pain as he tried to alleviate some of the pressure from his damaged hip.  “Just do it.”

McKay approached skittishly and pale.  “Okay, what?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Ronon said quietly.  “You’ve seen him get in and out of dozens of shitty situations but we’ve always come out of it okay.  I know you’re worried about him, but you’ve got to focus and make sure that we’re going to be okay too.”

McKay blinked at him again, though this time it was with uncertainty.  “Of course I’m worried about him,” he shot out quickly and too loudly, but quieted his voice when Ronon jerked and glared, “He’s _team_.  I’m worried about Teyla too.”  He sounded indignant at the end.

Ronon sighed irritably.  “Yeah, but Teyla’s different.”

And really, Ronon wished he had said _nothing_ now, because McKay looked twice as panicked than before, and was now rambling about plausible deniability and what the hell did Ronon know about _anything_ , and—

Ronon bit his tongue so hard it bled, but it was worth it because he had managed to get his blaster out and aim it squarely at Rodney, who promptly shut the hell up.  “Now _keep it that way_ ,” Ronon growled.  “You’re right, I don’t know anything.  Just shut up and keep an eye out.”

He was exhausted and in pain, and now armed with the knowledge that Teyla was probably going to kick his ass to the floor, Ronon simply lay back and tried to listen for any potential dangers.

The next thing he heard though was Sheppard’s voice cutting through the dense forestry and Keller demanding to know the extent of Ronon’s injuries.

Teyla arrived before both, looking winded and determined, and Ronon could only give her a helpless shrug when she shot him a questioning look over Rodney’s anxious state.  She raised an eyebrow and immediately sat with McKay first.

In the five minutes before Sheppard and Keller arrived, she had managed to talk him down.

Ronon blissfully took whatever needle of happy juice Keller had prepped in lieu of trying to figure out just how the hell Teyla balanced them all.  The sedative began to kick in quickly, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

When he came to, Teyla was gently stroking his hand and Sheppard and McKay were dozing in the back corner of the jumper.  They were jumbled together as they so often were when they had to make camp in unideal conditions, but Ronon looked at it a bit differently now.

Teyla drew his attention though, and even through the fog of pain meds, he focused on her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make him panic; I was trying to calm him down,” Ronon spluttered out, and felt like an idiot.

“I have spoken with both of them,” Teyla said softly, looking toward the closed bulkhead door of the cockpit.  “And I have assured them we are _all_ good.  Are we not?”

Ronon rumbled out a groan-slash-laugh, because while the pain meds were good, they weren’t _that_ good, and the ache was beginning to come back.  “Yeah, yeah.  We’re good.”

Teyla smiled at him in the usual sisterly way, and stroked his cheek.  “We will be at Atlantis soon, and Keller will fix you.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

XXXXX

Ronon was drowsing in recovery when McKay visited.

McKay looked nervous (he always did), but he sat down and seemed to be very interested in smoothing out the crinkles in his gray slacks.  The silence wasn’t as awkward as it could have been, and Ronon was still flying a little high from the residual effects of anesthesia.

“So, there’s a very good chance that you may have seen me having a bit of a panic attack,” McKay finally blurted out, and his ears were red.

“Yeah,” Ronon replied and turned his head to face Rodney more directly.  “Sorry for that.  Was trying to help.”

“I know, I know,” McKay babbled out.  “It’s just…you’re like a brother to me, and to Sheppard, and to Teyla, and we care about you more than you think, because you’re just like Sheppard, thinking that nothing you go through affects us, when really, it’s not just one or—“

“ _Rodney_ ,” Ronon stressed out as best as he could and stretched out a long arm to try and land a hand on McKay’s shoulder.

Okay, so he may have clipped McKay on the face, but his hand eventually landed on a shoulder.

McKay was rubbing his face and looking pissy again, so Ronon squeezed his shoulder.

“Look, man…we’re good.  Me and you, me and Sheppard, whatever.  We’re good, seriously,” Ronon said with as much emotion as he could let himself show in front of McKay.  “We’re family.”

It seemed to ease the anxiety on McKay’s face.  “Well, yes…siblings do hit each other all the time.  Did I tell you about the time Jeannie dislocated my shoulder?”

Ronon laughed even though it made him ache a bit.  “No, McKay.  You didn’t.”  He let himself fall asleep to the sound of McKay babbling out a childhood story, only waking up the smallest amount when Sheppard and Teyla came in to sit with him as well.

Teyla smiled as Ronon let go of the last of his consciousness and held on to the feeling of her hand on his.  It was complicated, all of the feelings he had for them.  McKay was definitely the brother he never wanted but made sure was safe and had a begrudging affection/respect toward.  Sheppard was definitely the brother he _had_ always wanted, but by that time, Sateda had made it pretty difficult to have more than two children (never mind that his sister had died when she was 7).

Teyla reminded him of her so much that it hurt sometimes.  Other times, like now, surrounded by team that was more like family than he could verbally admit, he could let himself fall back in the safety of her hand on him and the feeling of being _good_.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Author's Note:**

> Story was partly inspired by both "Honey, I'm Good" by Andy Grammar (because the first time I heard it, I thought of Teyla and Ronon as being friends) and "Good Times" by All Time Low.
> 
> As a side-note, I am determined to finish this damn table. I know I've been kind of inactive for a bit, but work has been crazy, I'm trying to move, and various medical things have cropped up for both me and Mr. Elise lately, so I'm just trying to get through the first of the year.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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